Chapter 8
“Mr Sayer? Mr Sayer? I say, young man, are you feeling any better?”
Blearily I opened my eyes and jerked away, startled by the face that appeared directly above mine. Then I realised it was not the one I had dreamed of the night before.
“Oh. Mr Carter.” I covered my mouth, certain my breath would smell of semen, although it had just been a dream. I levered myself up on my elbows. “What happened?”
He sat down heavily on a camp chair and threaded his fingers through his hair. “You’ve been ill, young man. Lord Carnarvon and I were concerned. After we lost Pearson, we feared we would lose you as well. How are you now?”
I stretched and flexed my body. “I…I feel well, thank you. A bit of a sore throat, but other than that…How long was I ill?”
The older man scrubbed his face. “It
